Words
by lovelylyusha
Summary: Rose reflects on the things the Doctor says. Rated for hints at sexual activity, but nothing more.


_Goddess._

It was just one of the many words he whispered to her as they rolled around together, legs tangling in sheets as tongues dueled and hands roamed. His lips formed all sorts of words in her ear as he helped her out of the day's hoodie: soft ones, silly ones, even the filthy ones that she'd never imagined him saying.

Well, that was a lie. She'd imagined him saying those words many times, but never did she believe she would actually _hear_ them said in those honeyed tones, his tongue curving around each word like it was a sweet to be savored.

"I'm gonna make you beg for me, Rose, gonna tease you until you're so turned on you can't see straight and then I'll make you come so hard you'll forget where you are."

"Naughty girl, parading around the universe in a top like that. D'you know how difficult it is to overthrow a Corix'xan dictator when all I want to do is shove you up against a wall and turn you into a shaking, sobbing mess in my arms?"

"I want to see you come undone, Rose. Want to hear you scream and say my name like it's the only word in the universe that you know. And if it isn't, well, I can always fix that."

It made her shiver and turned her on more than she'd ever admit.

And yeah, she loved hearing those words. Loved promises of what he was going to do to her, how he would make her feel (and he followed through on every single one), loved those words quite a bit- but her favorites were the ones he whispered when he moved within her, bent over her with his cheek pressed to hers as he filled her slowly but completely, hitting the deepest parts of her like he'd been made to fit her perfectly.

"You're so beautiful, Rose."

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Mmm, Rose, oh, yes, just like that."

"I don't deserve you. Oh, Rose, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

He made her feel beautiful and sexy in a way that surpassed the physical level. Oh, she knew she was attractive- she'd gotten enough stares and lewd looks from men, alien and non-alien like. She'd been catcalled and hooted at more times than she cared to count.

And she didn't see what all the fuss was about- at least not as well as everyone else seemed to. She was trim, yes- given her lifestyle, any ounce of fat that managed to cling to her body would find itself gone the next day- but she was short and muscular whereas most desirable women were tall and thin, and her hair was short and bleached while others grew theirs long and wore a natural brunette. Her nose was pudgy and her lips slightly bigger than most, although she did like her eyes. But she was still bigger than most women- size 10 instead of size 0- and she'd always been overly critical of herself.

Well, not always. Since... well, since Jimmy.

Jimmy had made her feel sexy, yes, but in the "I want your body" sort of way. And it had been nice, when she lived with him, to have somebody who would call her sexy and hot and touch her. He'd made her feel confident and, if not completely loved, then at the very least wanted. But then they'd broken up and he'd called her horrible things, and she'd gone home crying to her mum about boys and cruelty and she'd stayed home for a week.

Then came the chips and the candies, the sweets, the ice cream. She'd used food as a balm to heal the wounds Jimmy had ripped in her and surrounded herself with chip boxes and packages of cookies, and one morning she'd hopped on the scale on a whim and the number she saw had nearly killed her. Then she'd struggled to decrease that number, threw away the Cadbury's and just about everything else, too. She'd shed pounds too quickly and felt sick and dizzy and tired most of the day until her mum said "Enough" and forced her to eat a good meal at the very least twice a day. Her weight had been constant struggle for her after him.

And then there was the non-physical. What did she have to offer? She dropped out of school before her A-levels so she had no education. No skills to hone. She could never show her face back at school after leaving for the reason she had (to follow a boy her mum didn't approve of) and so she had no choice but to continue on her chosen path. School dropout, living with her mum, becoming a statistic on Estate school dropouts. She felt ugly and useless, and she considered herself an honest-to-God waste of space. Waste of water. Waste of air. What had she to offer the world? Service at Hendrick's? Anyone could do that. She was taking up a job, a job that could could as easily be done by a university student trying to pay his way to a master's degree in something smart and useful, like physics or engineering or economics.

But then came the Doctor, appearing in her life with a sudden (and literal) bang and carrying her with him that moment he'd said "Run". He made her feel better in a way she couldn't explain, and that went beyond the physical fitness she was forced to acquire lest she fall behind him as they ran from the threat of the day. He showed her so much, taught her so much, and one day she woke up and said to herself "I love him." She loved that he showed her the marvels of the universe, showed her her own insignificance and her own importance at the same time. She loved that he taught her how to help those who needed her, taught her to think in a way that made her feel less shallow, less worthless. Loved that he helped her love herself again and then, in turn, love him.

She'd been afraid to act on that, was determined never to, and then one day she'd almost lost him miles below a planet's dusty surface and they'd hugged and he hadn't let go until he'd had a chance to give her the kiss of her life. It was long and soft, and it had been followed by more like it and others that involved teeth and tongues and words whispered in husky tones.

And he made her feel sexy in a way that she felt almost down to the core, in her heart of hearts- her soul, if that was something that existed. He made her feel perfect in her hoodies and jeans with her chip boxes, would eat them with her (he'd steal one and then she'd try to undo him as she finished the box, licking up the length of the chip and biting into it with her eyes closed in an expression of bliss) and offer to take her for them if she happened to express a craving. He would hold her in his arms and run his hands down her back, kiss his way down arms that she thought were too big and across a waist she thought was too short. He'd nuzzle thighs she was afraid were too thick and nibble breasts she thought were too small, and if she ever expressed these concerns to him he'd correct her with sweet or dirty words or grow angry at her for "calling the woman I love anything but perfect, so zip it before I'm forced to take disciplinary action against you." Sometimes she would cease her complaining and sometimes she'd goad him into whatever discipline she thought he had in mind, but she'd quickly stopped doing that when once he teased her to the brink and then refused to let her come till the following morning. He'd tied her hands behind his neck and kept her pressed against his chest, and stayed awake to make sure she didn't pry herself free to finish the job. He'd made up for it later, of course (he could never deny her anything, poor sod) but he'd gotten his point across: Nobody messes with Rose Tyler. Not even Rose Tyler herself.

Sometimes she got upset with him for that ("It's my body and I'll hate it if I want to") but he would get so upset in return and look at her with those sad puppy eyes and say"But why, Rose? What's wrong with you? You're perfect, can't you see?"

He didn't understand that it was a woman thing, that she always found the flaws in her appearance despite whatever the rest of the universe saw. He could never understand. He was raised on a planet where the physical wasn't so important, and she was raised on one where the physical was everything. He wasn't wired to understand. And she would never be able to make him.

So she had to learn from him. If she could see past the physical in everyone they met, from little dwarf-like aliens to huge spiny monster-like ones, why couldn't she do the same for herself? That was why she needed the Doctor, for him to help her see herself the way he did.

He lived up to his name, in a way. The cuts and bruises and broken bones and broken heart and broken sprit that Jimmy had left her with he had healed, with as much ease and effortlessness as if he'd done it a thousand times. Maybe he had. Or maybe he just understood her the way she understood him- in a way neither of them could really fully grasp, could really explain except for "We were made for each other." They both wrote it off and called it cheesy, but she believed it and she was sure he did too. How else could their hands fit so well together, their bodies merge so perfectly, unless they'd been designed to? He called it a lover's delusion, that people believed fanciful things when they were in love, but she saw the look in his eye when she took his hand and knew he thought the same.

They'd been born the way they were so they could be the way they were now.

Rose Tyler and the Doctor, holding hands and healing each other's scars as they ran across the universe. Together.

As they should be.


End file.
